


The Boy With Wings

by orphan_account



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1990s, Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Childhood Friends, London, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-10-17 19:57:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20626697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Phil Lester isn't like the rest of the children he knows; he can control water without laying a finger near it. His brother could, too, but he was taken from Phil. He goes to the only person left in his life, a woman who owns a flower shop by his old home. Tragedy strikes and Phil is alone once again. Just when he begins to fade away, a boy with wings sweeps him off his feet.





	1. The Beggining

Phil Lester, the golden boy, was coming apart at the seams and there was no one left to stitch him back together. He could feel his threads being pulled by the smiling children filling the courtyard, the football hitting the goal, the laughter that could be heard miles away. It was tearing him up to think that only months ago he was playing with them. But that was before. 

Before his brother, older by only a year was taken from him because he, like Phil, had the ability to control water.

Before their father, the only man who truly loved them, was killed. Phil and his older brother, Martyn, were different than everyone else. They could do things that were different. Both of them had the ability to control water without even laying a finger near it. 

Martyn had called it a gift but Phil understood gifts were good things. Gifts were happy, they didn't get you taken away from the people you love, right from your home. 

Phil's father was brave. Not just for the dangerous, and dare I say, illegal work he did, but for not giving up on his two children. For not running away like their mother. That woman, their mother, she had decided her children were wicked angels sent by Satan himself. She left at her first sight of peculiarity. Not their father, though. Their father understood them even though he wasn't like them. 

God, Phil missed his family. He hadn't noticed himself crying but several other students had and shot him side-eyed glances. Phil had become a mystery. No one dared try to solve such a mystery as Phil. His pieces had been scattered across the Earth. Some were buried in the desert sands, some were still sinking to the bottom of the ocean, some stuck in the green canopy of the rainforest. It was far too much trouble for anyone, let alone Phil's age to travel the world in search of the puzzle pieces. He didn't expect them to. 

The biting cold of December's winter nearly froze the tears on Phil's cheek. He made himself as small as he could in his coat, trying his very best to disappear in its warmth entirely. 

"Philly? Are you...are you really crying?" an unfamiliar voice asked him. Phil didn't say anything back but that didn't stop the boy from going on. "Don't be such a baby girl, Phil. Baby girl's cry like my sister, not eleven-year-old boys. And if you really are crying, go somewhere else so we don't have to see it. You're all snotty and gross."

Phil didn't even know this boy. He might've before, but Phil clearly didn't know, so why was he still here? What did he want? Phil dismissed his own silent queries with a sniffle t which the boy said, "See what I mean! It's gross..."

The boy eventually left Phil alone. He waited until the boy went back to his game and then left the courtyard. Phil held his hands to his cheeks in an attempt to warm them himself against the cold. He had a single destination in mind, as per usual: Ms. Harbor's flower shop. Ms. Harbor was a woman in maybe her forties who both lived in and ran a flower shop down the road from Phil's school. She was all he had left.

They'd met the same dreary day that Phil's father was killed. Martyn had taken Phil to buy flowers for a memorial they were building in their own back garden for their father. They, of course, couldn't have a real funeral for many reasons. One being they didn't even know the whereabouts of his body. They wouldn't have known he was even dead had the scary man their father worked for not come tell them himself. The second being more obvious, they had no money. Well, other than a little their father had left for them in a shoebox but that was it.

The man their father worked for, Samuel, was paying for their house. He'd said to them, "Your father worked for us and, in return, we told him we'd protect his children. I'm well aware of what you boys can do but I can assure you not another soul does or will so long as you don't seek to find or ask me for anything." And with that, he shut the door and left, leaving behind him nothing but the scent of smoke and metal. 

Phil insisted on buying flowers for their memorial. That's why they went to the flower shop.

It had an unexplainable brightness to it, the shop did. There was so much life behind those glass windows, it almost made up for the life that had been taken away.

Upon entering, the place was empty. No one was around. Martyn began his search for flowers he liked while Phil made his way to the back of the store in hopes of finding someone who worked there. And he did. There was a door that had just barely been left open. It led to a room made almost completely of windows. Phil peered inside and watched the whole thing as if it were a stage performance: a woman with long brown hair that was starting to grey, sitting on her knees, playing with a leafy vine that grew from the dirt. It danced around her fingers as if it had a mind of its own. Phil leaned in for a better look, the floor creaking under his weight. The once lively vine recoiled backin to the dirt as the woman shot up to her feet. She began to stammer and stumble over her words but Phil cut her off. 

"wait...it's ok. watch," he whispered as he looked over at a bucket full of water. 

A blob began to form in the air, separating from the water in the bucker. Phil's eyes led the water to a pot of flowers. The woman watched in awe as Phil did this maybe two times before Martyn opened the door fully, making Phil drop the water and splashing is everywhere. Martyn grabbed Phil's shoulder and pulled him away. 

The whole way home, Martyn lectured his brother. Not once did he let Phil explain that, Martyn, she can do except with plants. But, despite Martyn's warning, Phil continued to visit Ms. Harbor after school and it wasn't long before they became friends. 

It's where he would go when he needed to talk or just to be away from everything. And, right now, Phil needed nothing but.

He ran through the freezing air and stumbled into the store. Ms. Harbor looked up at the sound of the tiny bell above the door to meet Phil's eyes. 

"Phil, love, talk to me, okay? Why aren't you in school?" 

"No! No, not school-this boy, he was mean-ran off." Phil was spitting out phrases, too out of breath to form entire sentences. He choked back a sob and looked up. "I miss him so much," he whispered, a lot quieter than he expected himself to be. 

"I know, love. I know," she said, holding Phil in her arms. 

"Can I go upstairs?" Phil asked. The shop was a two-story building meant for the upper level to be a studio living space. Ms. Harbor had a bed and a rack of clothing up there but she had a house of her own. Phil had reserved a corner for himself, though. There was a mattress that had belonged to Ms. Harbor's son before he moved out, a kettle and camp stove to make himself and Ms. Harbor tea, and a trunk of Phil's clothes. 

Ms. Harbor offered to make Phil some food but he refused and went upstairs. He made himself some tea and stripped his coat and shoes before curling up on his bed. he pulled a book from his bag. Winnie The Pooh.

Technically, Phil stole the book. He checked it out from the library a while ago and never gave it back. He had a collection of really good books in a box that belonged to Ms. Harbor's son. Where the Red Fern Grows, Charlette's Web, Bridge to Terabithia, and several Anne of Green Gables books. 

Phil finished his tea quickly. There, on his little bed that wasn't really his, he fell asleep in the warmth of hundred-acre woods with Christoper Robin and his friends.


	2. Do You Remember Winter

My name's Phil Lester and I thought I'd lost everything. Well, I sort of did but I found something that makes up for it all. Actually, he kinda found me. 

My father and brother are both gone, probably also both dead. I at least had someone to fall back on, though. Down the street from my old home was a lively flower shop who's owner became my best friend and, quite frankly, caregiver. She was a woman in her forties who was like me in a way. You see, I can control water. She can control plants in the same way. I wouldn't call it magic but it's certainly a peculiarity. As you can probably tell where this is going, I lost her, too. 

It was exactly eight days until Christmas...a little over a week. We were upstairs making hot cocoa and talking, laughing, when the glass was shattered downstairs. The sound was followed by several heavy footsteps who, not even in the slightest were trying to make a discreet entry. Ms. Harbor, the owner, was practically pushing me towards the fire exit. I don't remember what was going on or how I ended up down on the pavement, but the last thing I remember was a high pitched scream before I started running. I looked back. I know you're not supposed to ever look back, I've read enough books to know that, but I did. There was no one else in the streets, no one to hear everything that had happened. It was freezing outside...I don't blame them. 

I kept running and running to the woods. We lived in a small town anyway and I used to play in these woods with my brother. I was going to run until I physically couldn't anymore and then I'd find a place to hide. Granted that the plan of hiding in the woods was not thought out...

Now, I'm not the most graceful human on the planet. I was maybe a quarter mile, if that, in the woods when I tripped over a root. I landed on my knee's, skinning them both pretty bad, and might've sprained my wrist while trying to catch myself. My jeans were torn and I could see blood underneath all the dirt. I pulled myself to a tree, my legs too tired and wounded to do much more. 

I don't remember falling asleep, but I did apparently. I woke up in a cave. It was actually more so just a little cavity in the hill, but it was a cave nonetheless. It was dark outside so I assume I was asleep for a while. My legs and wrist still hurt, terribly, but all the dirt and blood had been cleaned off. This might have bothered me more had my head not been pounding. 

But then, in the moonlight, I saw something. It was sitting next to a tree, propped up against it. 

This, however, did concern me. I didn't move. I just kept staring at the figure, trying to see what it was. I made out pretty quickly that it was a person, about my height. This could mean they were older than me though, as I was quite tall for my age. I sat up and started to stand which, in hindsight, probably wasn't the best idea at the time. I immediately tripped over myself, landing on my knee. I winced out loud in pain then quickly covered my mouth and backed away from the moonlit ground. It was too late at that point.

The person stood up and just stared at the cave. 

"H-hi...I'm Daniel."

Daniel saved my life. He's my hero, honestly. But do you want to know the best part? Of course, you do. Daniel's special, like I am. Except, he doesn't control things like me or Ms. Harbor. Whenever he's scared or sometimes just if he wants to, he can grow wings. They're huge, dark brown wings with hints of white and gold. He used to take his shirt off entirely because, when they grew out, they'd rip the fabric, but he never does when I'm around.

Something else about Daniel, I think he's been out here for a long time. I haven't asked him yet since we've only known each other for six days and that just feels too personal. We talk, really, but not about either of our lives before these woods. Although my time here has been much shorter than his, I assume.

He knows the woods well. He knows what we can eat and what will make us sick. He can hunt and build traps. He builds fires and cooks what we caught. It kind of makes me sad to think that's he's been out here so long that he's learned how to do all this stuff. Maybe he was a boy scout before he came out here and that's why. Maybe it's not as sad as I think it is. I hope not at least.

"Daniel, how old are you?" I ask, leaning against the back of our little cave.

"Why do you ask?"

"I'm curious. I'm eleven."

"Oh. I'm nine," he says, almost upset.

"You're nine? How? You're so smart and your even a bit taller than me!" 

He just laughs a little, more of a breath, actually. I laugh a little too.

Daniel had a bunch of clothes, mostly heavy jumpers. The best thing about being in a little cave; there's no snow on the ground. It still stays cold in here though and we can only find so much wood that isn't wet from the snow. We both layer up, me more so than him. He can cover up in his wings and wrap them around himself. It makes me wish I had a better ability, one that was more helpful. Fire, maybe. 

I pull my arms into my jumper and wrap them around myself.

"Your cold?" Dan asks.

"A little. Your not?"

"Of course I am. It's winter, Phil. Do you want me to build a fire?"

"No. I'm not that cold. Unless you are then I want you to. But, no, I'm fine. Thanks though."

"Are you sure?"

I nod, hugging myself tighter. I have another shirt underneath the jumper. 

"Phil, you're shivering."

"I'm not!"

"You are. Turn around, please."

I turn around. I know why, so I don't argue. 

"Ok," Dan whispers. "You can turn back around." And there he was, his wings wrapped around him. 

"Why'd you...why'd you show your wings?"

"They always keep me warm so I want to share." He sat down and held one wing out. I just stared at him. "Are you going to sit?"

I pull my arms through my sleeves and crawl over next to him. Daniel's skin was ice cold but wherever he hid those wings must be hotter than midday summer. They wrap around me and I can't help but curl up closer to Daniel. 

"Are you okay? I mean, you don't have to take care of me, you know. I was fine," I assured, my hands folded in themselves and my head rested on his shoulder.

"I know but you were cold and I knew how to help." 

"But you don't have to," I argued, lifting my head up to look at him.

In response, Dan wraps his arms around me in hug that lasts seemingly forever. The cold, bitter winter air seemed like a distant dream. Hazy. 

"I do," he whispers. "You're my best friend "


End file.
